


When the world came to a stop

by Aki_of_Eyluvial



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo e Giulietta - Ama e Cambia il Mondo, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, M/M, Whump, character death in some chapters, collection of prompts, some ships are strange...bear with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_of_Eyluvial/pseuds/Aki_of_Eyluvial
Summary: All the prompts from the Bad Things Happens Bingo card collected in one place and, hopefully, corrected from where I posted them on Tumblr.25 prompts for me to torment poor Tybalt.





	1. 01 ~ Touch starved [Tycutio]

_ **01 ~ Touch Starved** _

Tybalt barely looked up from where he was sitting, his back against a damp, cold wall, he heard the metal keys against the bars of his cell, a voice whistling softly but he didn’t look up, he knew if he did so he would be lost, for good. He couldn’t give in, not yet, he knew he had every reason to be imprisoned like that, away from the world, away from the sun, with heavy chains around his wrists, he knew it was mercy after what he did, he deserved death. But maybe death was the merciful ending for his crimes and this– _this_ was the true punishment.

He _couldn’t_ look up.

The cell bars got opened and he fixed his eyes on the floor, brown boots soon entered his vision, fine polished and shining, not even some dust from the floor on them.

“_D__on’t look up. Don’t look up.”_ He repeated to himself, he had to resist. He heard some rustling from the chains, they were checking everything was still in place, they feared he would try to escape.

_Oh, but he tried._ For the first five days, then he gave in, no point on trying, the chains were resistant and he had lost any will to run. Run where, anyway? He had nowhere to hide, not from the Prince’s men. So he became quiet, submissive, he took every punishment they sent him. Words? Knives? Traditional tortures? Never before he thought the Prince to have this much knowledge on tortures, how wrong he was to think that. - _H__ow wrong it had been underestimating Valentine_. - but the real torture was that.

“_D__on’t look up.”_ He swallowed on dry throat, it almost hurt doing so.

“My poor Capulet, - _the man said, his voice soft, falsely worried, he knew it by then_. - I have some water for you.” Tybalt almost heard him smile.

“No…” He forced with what little voice he still had, it hurt to speak, he felt his lips crack, he felt blood on them, warm and sticky.

“No? - _H__e asked, Tybalt didn’t see him tilt his head, long hair falling on the side. __But he could almost hear it._ \- Oh, yes! We’re playing this game again.” He sounded so childish, an excited child but Tybalt had no strength to roll his eyes at him, too tired, too weak. “You say no, I force you, I win. I like this game.”

He stepped closer and knelt on the dirty floor, a goblet in his hand. There was no kindness when he pushed it to Tybalt’s lips, no kindness when he grabbed his hair and pulled back his head forcing water down his chapped lips. When the goblet was blissfully empty and he let go Tybalt let his head fell forward coughing what water he couldn’t get down.

A hand, soft as silk, long fingers he once had known so well, caressed his cheek.

“_D__on’t look up.”_ He repeated once again, but leaned in the touch nevertheless. His hand was cool on his warm skin. He thought that staying in a cell under the palace would have been cold but it wasn’t, after a week or so all he could feel was warmth. - _T__hat was when the first sign of a continuing fever kicked in, but he didn’t like to think of that_. _He didn’t like to think._ -

The hand suddenly retracted, as if burned at the touch. And that was it. That was his _downfall_.

Tybalt looked up. Through dazed sight Mercutio stood in the light of a torch, dark curly hair falling free on his back, his eyes shining maliciously in the light, the empty goblet in his hand. He looked down at him and smiled.

“Cu–tio…" Tybalt tasted blood when he spoke, he tried to move, to lift a hand toward him, toward the man that was once his lover and now his jailer, he tried to get closer to him, to his hand, again, to feel it on his skin. _Oh, how he longed for that touch, for any touch_. But Mercutio only smiled and took a step back.

"I– I’m sorry. - _T__ybalt stammered out_. - I love you…” Nothing changed on Mercutio’s face, no surprise, no shock, not even a fake one. Instead he kept smiling, he turned and closed the bars with the heavy key before looking back at his prisoner once more.

“Oh, Tybalt… - _H__e whispered_. - if only someone loved you.”

And with that he left.


	2. 02 ~ Knife at the throat [Tyvolio]

How it started neither of them knew for sure. One day they were yelling hate words, swinging their swords at each other, actually drawing blood from the other. The next day Benvolio couldn’t keep his hands away from him, from his hair, from his body, his face. He couldn’t keep his lips away from Tybalt’s. How it started was a mystery and it was perfectly fine for both of them if it stayed that way, because no, how it started wasn’t the point nor the problem, how it would continue, on the other hand…

In all truth they weren’t sure. Streets brawls still happened frequently, Tybalt’s words were still filled with hate and every time he claimed to hate Benvolio part of him actually believed it. They were, to say the least, _complicated._ Even more if they were counting the respective families too. A Capulet and a Montague. Good Lord in Heaven, they were doomed to fall.

When in the end Mercutio proposed to sneak in one of the many parties at the Capulet palace it had been almost a year after they became _something_. Whatever they were.

“Are you all right?” Benvolio was leaning against the wall, a torch illuminating his tall figure, the back garden was desert and he took away the mask he wore until a moment before.

“Unharmed. Yes.” Tybalt wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes kept scanning the garden and the door that led inside. “What are you doing here?” He hissed walking closer, Benvolio was still a head taller than him, it was somehow infuriating in a moment like that.

“I heard of a party and I came here. - _He took a strand of hair and rolled them between his fingers. _\- And I didn’t mean physically. I can see you’re not hurt.” As he said that Tybalt turned his head again letting his hair cover half of his face. Benvolio cupped his cheek with a hand forcing him to meet his eyes. He knew he was lying. “I mean after this morning. The fight. The threat.”

“It’s hardly the first time, and you know it.”

“We still need to be careful. And you should ask the Nurse a little help if you need to cover those bruises.” With a small, playful smile Benvolio leaned closer, his lips brushing lightly on his cheekbone, careful not to hurt him, Tybalt took a step back startled.

“It’s nothing. Coordination is a bit off someti –”

“Cut the bullshit. - _Tybalt immediately closed his mouth looking at Benvolio with an arched eyebrow. - _You never miss a step, not even when drunk, my dear. Don’t play this game with me. Don’t…” He took another step toward him, and another when he saw Tybalt standing still. He kissed his cheek again, then the corner of his lips. “Sometimes… - _Benvolio hesitated for a moment, his hand right above Tybalt’s hip. _\- Sometimes I have this wish of taking you away from this place, this family. Of running away from Verona, just the two of us, start over somewhere people don’t know us and our families.”

Tybalt chuckled lightly leaning against him.

“And then your cousin would go around and get himself killed in the stupidest way one could imagine. Like… like getting hit by a carriage or something like that. Or tripping over his feet and falling on a sword.”

“You don’t even like Romeo.” The young Montague laughed, the hand slipped from the hip and went around his back keeping him close.

“But you do. You would never leave Verona.” It was a matter of fact. It wasn’t the first time Benvolio proposed to run away but in the end it never happened, and they both knew it was for their respective families, or part of it at least. Benvolio had Romeo, and Mercutio. And he had Juliet, though she was growing up and she was almost sixteen in his eyes she would always be a child and it was his duty to protect her.

“Maybe I would if you were to ask me… - _Tybalt knew he wouldn’t. He knew. _\- Who knows…”

The kiss he planted on his lips was sweet, soft, slow. A hand went up to Tybalt’s hair, pulled them back just slightly and hold him. They were safe. The garden was empty and they were close to the wall anyway. Darkness protected them.

_Or so they thought._

“So that’s what you are now.” Tybalt turned and faced the three boys standing behind him in the empty square. The one in the middle, the one who spoke, was some kind of distant cousin or something. In truth it wasn’t so easy to keep track of every family member when said family proved to be larger than expected. “Their little dog.”

“I beg your pardon?” Tybalt crossed his arms in front of the chest, the day was warm, and soon the square will come alive with passerby and kids, it wasn’t in his plans for the day to spill blood at that early hour in the morning. The boy laughed as he walked closer until he stood right in front of him.

“I saw you last night. For all you claim to hate them you looked pretty close to that Montague.” Tybalt frowned, they had always been careful, at night and at the Capulet palace more than anywhere else. _Maybe not so much this time._ _What went wrong?_

“How was it? I’m curious… - _His smile held many promises, of pain and knives and hurt. Not that Tybalt __feared__ him. _\- What does a Montague taste like?” Tybalt tried to casually move out of the way, closer to one of the shops that was opening but the two boy behind him blocked his escape. They grabbed him by the shoulders and held him in place.

“Why don’t you try for yourself?” The smirk was immediately cut off of his face when the older one grabbed his face and drew him close.

“Because, _cousin_, - _He said displeased. _\- I’m not a filthy whore like you are.” Tybalt still tried to keep the smile on.

“That’s a shame. I’m quite sure you would like –” He wasn’t scared, not really, but he still felt pain when the dagger he didn’t see him unsheathing pressed against his neck. Everyone always considered him the hothead, well, they probably never met the rest of his family.

Of all the things Benvolio thought he would see that morning this one wasn’t included, not even at the bottom of the list. Because seeing Tybalt surrounded by Capulets was normal, usually, but finding him with a knife pressed against his throat and two red dressed boys holding him still by the shoulders was far from being the normality. Very much far.

Part of him wanted to intervene before things escalated, he wanted to grab the taller boy and punch him away from Tybalt. For once it was Mercutio, by his side, who held out a hand and stopped him.

“_Don’t do anything rushed.”_ He seemed to say. And Benvolio really wanted to listen to him, he tried, then he heard Tybalt laughing. Laughing in the face of the other Capulet who, from what little the young Montague heard, had called him a _Montague dog._

“You know, _cousin dear_, - _Tybalt said, the smile never falling from his face. -_ maybe I find their company better than yours. It wouldn’t be so hard.” He tried to ignore the stinging pain coming from the neck when the Capulet growled and dragged the knife on his skin, a few drops of blood trailing down in his clothes.

And that was it, Benvolio freed himself from Mercutio and sprinted toward them before he could react and grab him again, soon his fist hit the Capulet in the face. Tybalt staggered back, shocked, free from the grip since the other two quickly moved to help their _leader_. From the sound of the hit he was quite sure he ended up with a broken nose, not that would make his features much worse, and from the way Benvolio kept hitting him the nose was only the beginning. His vision became unfocused for a moment, Tybalt took a hand up to his neck, there was something wet and warm dripping between his fingers, Mercutio grabbed him as his legs gave out and he dropped on the ground.

Tybalt could barely see him, something made his face look distorted, his lips were moving but all he could hear was a continuous, deafening ringing in his ears. He felt a hand grabbing his face, extend it and press merciless on his neck, then everything fade into nothing.

“Benvolio! Benvolio stop punching him and let them go! - _Mercutio screamed as blood flew through his fingers as he tried to stop it. _\- Benvolio!” The young Montague turned and paled at the sight, rage filled him once again, he wanted to grab the sword instead of his bare knuckles and slash them open, but only for a moment, then he left them trying to scramble on his feet and run away and run to Mercutio and Tybalt.

“No… No Tybalt, please.” With much gentler hands he caressed his face, careful not to move Mercutio’s hand away. “Tybalt wake up… Please wake up.” He begged feeling tears falling down his cheeks.

It was five days later, and an almost miracle if one had to actually listen to Benvolio, before Tybalt woke up, tired, still in pain and weak, laying in an unfamiliar bed with thick bandages around his neck, Benvolio was sleeping on a chair, curled in an uncomfortable position and with their fingers intertwined.

“You gave us quite a scare, cousin mine, - _He turned painfully on the other side and looked at Juliet sitting by the bed. _\- and you’ve missed a few things in those past days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Most of the fics are now complete, I just need to fix them since I mostly write on the phone so capital letters and mistakes are everywhere. Still 18 of them are finished.
> 
> I hope you'll like them. (And please, forgive me for tormenting our poor Tybalt that much. 
> 
> See you all soon!  
~Aki~


	3. 03 ~ Attacked in their sleep [Tyvolio]

Benvolio knew that the Capulet he brutally punched would come after him sooner or later; first, he was a Capulet, and second, an angry one. What Benvolio didn’t think was to find him in his room in the dead of the night while he was already in bed almost asleep. And hopefully waiting for Tybalt to show up to spend the night by his side. - _If he could go past Juliet, of course. _-

“You really have a thing for knives, don’t you?” Benvolio wanted to sit up so he could have a better view of the man but he pushed him down, the knife shimmering in the low light of the lamp, his nose still crooked and big since their last encounter, Benvolio almost laughed at that. Except now he was the one with a knife pressed against the skin, and he remembered all the blood coming from Tybalt as he gasped for air, it wasn’t the time or place for laughing of his nose.

“And for trying to cut throats.” He added anyway making him, if possible, angrier. “You know, it’s not nice to enter someone’s bedroom while they’re sleeping, unless it’s your lover, and unfortunately for you, I’m not.” The knife got pressed harder on him, a silent warning to stop talking.

“You broke my nose. - _He actually sounded like a child, offended for something he’s been told he couldn’t have. _\- Your damn cousin ran around and married Lady Juliet. And _you_ corrupted that _fool_ that is Tybalt.”

“So you break in my room, wake me up with a God damn knife for… _That?_ To complain of things that are not my fault? - _He wanted to sigh in annoyance. Or maybe yawn. Or again, both. _\- Well, no. The nose is my fault, yes, and I take great pleasure in taking the merit for that. It suits you better.” In another moment, with a better light, Benvolio would have seen him grow more and more red with anger. “But now I really want to go back to sleep so, if you don’t mind…”

“I will fucking kill you!”

Benvolio was lucky he was fast, even if half asleep, his movements weren’t perfect nor swift as usually, but he was fast enough to roll on the mattress before the knife hit the pillow where a moment before was his face.

Tybalt wasn’t completely sure of what possessed him to go all the way to the Montague Palace in the middle of the night and climbing the tree right in front of Benvolio’s balcony. Sure, he did that other times, and Benvolio never closed the window so that he could get in without having to wake him, one of the branches was strong enough to keep his weight and take him at the right distance to jump without risking to fall. - _“I would fall on my feet anyway. I’m a cat after all, right?” He said, for once embracing the nickname Mercutio gave him. _\- He was climbing, fully knowing that in the morning Juliet would get mad for his little night trip, especially after the last wound he got.

He hid better on the tree when he heard voices coming from the room before realizing what was really happening. He jumped on the balcony and entered the room moving silently behind the Capulet.

“Nowhere else to run.” The boy smiled when Benvolio hit the wall with his back trying to get away from him and closer to a sword or something he could use as a weapon.

“Neither do you, _cousin dear_.” Tybalt said, voice low, dangerous, when the Capulet turned, the sword coming down to strike him, he moved to the side grabbing his arm and twisting it. Not hard enough to make him drop the weapon but enough, at least, to take place between him and Benvolio.

“Oh, look at that. The dog returned to its nest.” Tybalt cocked his head, amused, his eyes never leaving the sword, careful of each and every movement.

“It’s a kennel, you uncultured ape!” Benvolio protested loudly from behind him, still sitting on the floor, earning a soft laugh from Tybalt and a growl from his attacker.

“I don’t think it’s the right time to correct people on where animals sleeps in, ‘Volio.” Tybalt turned just slightly to look at him but quickly returned to face the other man when Benvolio suddenly turned worried. He moved closer, the knife raised and Tybalt barely had the time to lift his arms to protect the face. A chocked sound escaped him when the blade once again cut through his skin, slashing his arm. He pushed him back ignoring the stinging pain and the blood he could already feel saturating the sleeve, he pushed him until they were both standing in the balcony.

Benvolio rushed to his feet and grabbed the sword he left by the door uncaring of all the noise they were making and that probably already alerted part of his family, Romeo for sure, probably his uncle and aunt too, and some others. It would be hard to explain now, but one thing at time.

The knife left a small cut on Tybalt’s cheek before going down and slashing the shirt open.

“’Balt!” Benvolio couldn’t care of who would hear him now, it wasn’t important, not as much as Tybalt in that moment. Tybalt who found the strength to lift the Capulet enough to make him tumble over the railing and fall.

The sound he made when he touched the ground was covered by Lord Montague shooting the door open, sword already in hand, followed shortly by his wife and Romeo.

Tybalt looked down breathing heavily before turning to Benvolio, still unaware of the other Montagues.

“Are you okay? Unharmed? He didn’t – Oh God, ‘Volio, he didn’t hurt you, right?” He grabbed him, took Benvolio’s face in his hands scanning his body for wounds. “Not even some dignity left… coming here while you were sleeping to kill you…” He would have continued, hands gently caressing Benvolio’s cheeks as the Montague dropped the sword and was unsure of were to touch Tybalt, scared of all the blood that once again turned his clothes a darker shade of red.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Tybalt turned, his vision went out of focus for a couple of seconds at the movement and he had to blink before recognizing who was there.

“Well… - _He started, his voice coming out smaller than expected for some unknown reason, Benvolio’s hands closed on his shoulders trying to steady him. _\- I’m afraid you’ll find a dead Capulet in your back garden, Lord Montague...” He blinked again trying to send away the black dots that began dancing before his eyes. “But… But I had a very much valid reason for that. A – a valid one, yes.” He tried to smile, to sound confident, to gain, somehow, his favor. He didn’t hear his answer, only Benvolio’s voice, far far away, calling urgently his name. He could hear fear, despair. The wounds weren’t that bad, Tybalt was sure of that. Mostly sure. He saw blood on the balcony beneath his feet when he looked down. Then nothing.

“So, he saved you. After a Capulet sneaked in your room and tried to kill you in your sleep.” It sounded so stupid now that his uncle was summing it up for the third time, but it was true, it really was. Benvolio simply nodded, his eyes never leaving Tybalt, his hand holding his tightly, fearing to see him disappear. All he could see was red. His clothes, his hands, the bandages. _Hell_, doctors weren’t even sure he would last the night!

“He did. - _His voice was small, he felt tired, and the night was still long, but he wouldn’t sleep now. _\- Always does. He –” Benvolio stopped, his grip tightened and his lips quivered when he tried to speak. “He always gets hurt because of me. _Always…” _He leaned closer brushing his lips on Tybalt’s forehead, there will be more questions to answer now, he knew all too well but he didn’t care.

“I really am the worst boyfriend, I can’t even protect the one that means the most to me…” He knelt next to the bed, his forehead pressed on the mattress and Tybalt’s hand still held tight in his, an apology repeated over and over again, muffled on the blankets wet with tears.

He thought he knew guilty last time, how fool he had been. How silly, how naïve. But now – now he did and it was eating him alive.

_He didn’t even know if he would wake up so he could make up for that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those first are not the best I could write, unfortunately. And Benvolio is still pretty hard to write too.  
But as always, I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> ~Aki~


	4. 04 ~ Human Shield [Tycutio]

_Mercutio wanted to scream. And curse. And cry._

It was a fine afternoon until a couple of minutes before, a very much fine, nicely warm afternoon, everything was absolutely perfect.

Romeo was trying to decide what flowers he actually wanted to buy while Juliet tried to persuade him it wasn’t necessary, that her mother wouldn’t close the door on his face just because he arrived without flowers at the dinner. - _She was losing her battle, even with all of her Capulet stubbornness Romeo was more stubborn. _-

Benvolio had a strange look on his face, like he was concentrating more than usual, then he hung his head in defeat. “I’m sorry. I really am. Can you repeat it?” Mercutio heard him say before looking back up, the redhead smiled, a silent laugh on her lips. She pointed at Benvolio, then at herself, he nodded, then she linked her fingers together and made a vague gesture at the space around them.

“She’s asking him out, right?” Mercutio asked quietly, not loud enough for Benvolio to hear, seeing him struggling to translate something so easy was funny. _Well_, easy if one was already used to sign language.

“She is. - _Tybalt answered sitting by his side, he gave her a quick, almost hidden, thumb up. _\- If she has to wait for him to do it she’ll grow old. He should ask some advice to his cousin.”

“The one who didn’t even wait one day before getting married?”

“What can I say? At least he did something.”

“Looks like someone is warming up to Romeo…” Mercutio turned to face him with a playful smile, he knew he was right and, more importantly, Tybalt never denied it.

“Oh, shut up.” Or at least never meaning it seriously.

Everything was perfect, so peaceful one wouldn’t even believe it was the same Verona of a few months before, where the four of them met in the streets to fight, where a feud almost destroyed five lives in only two days, where five children almost died for sins not even their parents knew for sure. What was good was that children have time to learn how to get along, learn to forgive. _Learn to love_. And because of love Verona blossomed. _\- __Because of love Verona would fall in flames too. - _

The feud wasn’t the problem, not in the long run, not the main one; sure, some Capulets still picked up fights with some Montagues but nothing big, nothing serious. But that calmness brought up some hate hidden right beneath the surface, against the royal family.

Mercutio wasn’t surprised if he had to be honest, he expected that to happen earlier, much earlier and perhaps in a much more direct way against the Prince himself. Not that he wanted his uncle to be targeted.

The first time it happened people screamed. They screamed at him to turn and face them. They yelled in hate against the power his family had and how they were destroying the city; they gave him all the time he needed to get ready and avoid any kind of injury. Not even a scratch.

They learned to be quiet after that. So quiet one had to be trained to notice them. Mercutio would have considered himself lucky to know someone like this, except he didn’t feel lucky. _No one bit._

They had left their spot, the wooden bench of a tavern, to join the rest of their friends and family in the square when Tybalt first noticed them.

One man in particular caught his attention, his hand was gripping the hilt of the dagger a bit too hard, his steps where long, heavy, and he never lowered his eyes, looking straight at Mercutio. It could be nothing, of course. Many still acted nervous when walking by them, expecting a fight to break at any moment, other were simply nervous for their own reasons, it wouldn’t be the first one, nor the last. But Tybalt just wanted to be on the safe side, that’s why he grabbed Mercutio by the arm and dragged him toward himself before pushing him back behind him when the man realized he had been spotted and bolted toward them, the dagger out and shining under the sun.

The world stopped for a moment.

Mercutio fell heavily on the ground and groaned, more annoyed than hurt. Tybalt had always been unpredictable, sure, but never like that. And no matter how much Benvolio or Romeo could still doubt it, he never hurt him in any way, not even during the worst fights they had. He had always been careful to leave him unharmed, so pushing him on the ground was something unusual. _Wrong._

“Tybalt, what the –” He stopped, he froze, everything froze around them. Everything but the man in front of Tybalt. After a first moment of surprise for having his target pushed away, he decided the one he had just stabbed was good enough, for the time being. So he plunged the dagger three more times in his chest.

Tybalt knew he was fast. He had been trained since he was a child; he held a sword when kids his age still scrambled on uncertain feet grabbing their mother’s skirts. Not that he had a skirt to grab. Or a mother, for the matter. Since he could remember he had been trained to become a soldier, a knight, to protect his family and their honor. So, _yes_, he was fast. He could’ve stepped behind the man and block him on the ground, but he had a dagger in his hand and he knew, he could read it in his eyes, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw it with the risk of wounding Mercutio. He didn’t move. He stood there after pushing Mercutio out of the way and took the hit for him.

That was what he had been trained for, after all, wasn’t it? Protect his family. Mercutio was family, Mercutio was, _is_, his life, his world. _His everything_. And Tybalt knew he would die for him one day.

The first hit was a surprise, he knew it was coming but it still caught him off guard. Someone was screaming, _Juliet?_

Then, with the second stab came the pain, his eyes widened and a groan escaped his lips, nothing else. His voice was lost somewhere, air trapped in his lungs, - _Or maybe they were empty and he couldn’t take air in, Tybalt wasn’t sure of that. _\- pain was still manageable until the third stab. Tybalt felt himself on fire, he gasped and staggered back a few steps, fear took hold of his mind, he felt tears forming in his eyes and tried to blink them away.

The last stab was unexpected, even more than the first, the dagger remained in his chest as two guards took the man. Everything fast until that moment slowed down impossibly. His legs gave out and only Mercutio behind him prevented him from dropping on the ground.

Mercutio laid him on the street, the head gently laid on his knees, everything was wrong. The man attacking them was wrong, Tybalt pushing him back was wrong, the dagger in his chest was wrong, the blood. _Oh God, the blood._ The only thing right was the limp body of the man being dragged away, he couldn’t even stop them and beg them for a doctor, he couldn’t beg anyone to call a doctor, it was too late and they all knew that.

The redhead fell on her knees beside Tybalt with tears in her eyes, Mercutio saw her sign something, her mouth moving wordlessly, then she took his hand and squeezed it gently, Tybalt smiled, he tried, it came out a bit crooked and a lot bloodied but it was enough.

“_I’ll take care of Juliet for you, I promise. I swear.” _Juliet would tell him later she said, Mercutio didn’t care at the moment. Tybalt was gasping weakly, no matter where Mercutio would put his hands the blood wouldn’t stop, it seeped through the clothes and under him, dripped from his lips with every raggedy breath.

“What were you thinking? What on earth you wanted to do, you – Why?” His voice broke as tears fell down his cheeks, as he leaned over and placed a small kiss on Tybalt’s forehead. Difficultly Tybalt moved his hands over his chest and made a quick, incomplete and even uncoordinated sign that, through tears the mute girl repeated for Mercutio slower.

“_Safe_? That’s all you say, Tybalt? I don’t care of being safe. I don’t _want _to be safe!” He screamed out of fear, and rage, and desperation. And because he saw Tybalt slowly close his eyes and he didn’t want that.

Tybalt tapped two fingers right above his heart where he let the hand fall without strength. _Love. I love you. You’ll be there. I’ll keep you safe here._ He used that gesture so many times before when in the night neither had the wish to speak and break the magic silence brought. It meant all those things for them and all of them broke Mercutio’s heart when Tybalt closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

He saved him from _one_ man’s attack, surely there will be others but for that day he would return home safe. _At least in the body._

It wasn’t just Tybalt who died that day, on the cold stones of the square, his body broken to protect the one person he loved the most. Mercutio died too. In a more hidden way, but he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth chapter and characters are starting to die, and it won't be the only time.  
The card is now almost complete, on tumblr, there are like 5 left to fill and I have to say I had a lot more fun than expected (So I will ask a new one once it's complete!!)  
I hope you all will like this chapter too~  
(Ah, right, I decided to put the ship in the chapter titles, so you'll know and if you don't like some you can skip them.)
> 
> ~Aki~


	5. 05 ~ Nightmares [Benvolio & The Cat]

Never before Benvolio would have predicted _that_. It was so strange that almost felt impossible, and yet here they were, on a bed too small for two grown men and too big for one alone, or maybe it wasn’t the size but the coldness they felt when turning and rolling on the empty side.

They were different, maybe even opposite, they had nothing in common but all the deaths that touched them in so little time. Still Benvolio didn’t know how they ended up sharing a bed. - _And nothing else, if people outside ever wondered. They laid on the bed, slept, or sometimes stared at the ceiling in complete silence. Nothing else. _-

After a while the older man’s presence became a constant in Benvolio’s life, like it had been Romeo, and Mercutio. And he began to see more than what eyes could see, more than what people saw.

He saw rage, a blind fury dancing like flames in his eyes every time Lord Capulet spoke Tybalt’s name, sadness when Juliet was called back to memory, regret for that young love taken by their hate. Benvolio thought he saw everything until he woke up one night to a heart wrenching scream. Then he saw fear, terror, despair, a deep sorrow he feared it would swallow him. He saw clear blue eyes widened in fear, tears rolling down his cheeks and sobs breaking his body.

Sometimes, at the beginning, Benvolio forgot who the man really was. His mind told him he was just a brokenhearted Capulet. A selfish part of himself said he was the one suffering the most between them. Because he had lost his cousin. Because he had lost his best friend.

But the man, _the Cat, as everyone always called him_, wasn’t just a Capulet. And he had every right to mourn as Benvolio did. He loved Romeo as a brother, he called them both his brothers. He had lost his actual brother, his own blood, what was left of his family, and no age nor experience could ever prepare one for _that_. - _Because Benvolio also had to remember Tybalt was younger than the Cat. Hell! He was younger than him too. Not even twenty yet. _-

“Do you want to talk about…” He stopped. _About what, exactly?_ He had a nightmare, most likely, one of the bad ones, considering his reaction. Why would he want to talk about it with him?

The Cat covered his eyes with the hands, like that could shield him from the nightmare, from everything around him, but what he saw still lingered in his mind. He was old enough not to be scared of nightmares, but this one was more, this one was real.

Tybalt was nothing more than a child, four or five years old, and his favorite place to sleep was on his brother, like a proper cat, taking all the space he could find and making himself comfortable. - _He wished he never grow out of that no matter how old he was. _-

“I promise you, kitten. Tomorrow I’ll buy you that sweet cake you like so much.”

“You said the same yesterday. - _He pouted. _\- And you didn’t.”

“It’s not my fault your tummy hurt so much. But tomorrow you’ll have your cake.”

“Promise?” The Cat smiled ruffling gently his hair.

“Tell me kitten, did I ever broke a promise to you?”

Everything was fine. Sure, dreaming of Tybalt when he was so young and innocent always left him sad when he woke up, but it was a nice dream. A nice memory.

_Except it wasn’t._

Tybalt stood suddenly, his little hand planted on his brother’s chest, his face serious.

“Yes. You did.” He stated. The Cat blinked confused. Tybalt was still on him but not anymore at five years old. _No._ he was eighteen, long hair left free on his back, tangled, sticking to his forehead with sweat. His face pale, much paler than he could remember, eyes dazed, looking at him in confusion and regret, and fear, and guilt. _And blame_.

“You let me die.” Blood dripped from his mouth, seeped through his clothes, red on red fabrics, stained his own shirt. He screamed. _And woke up_.

“Do they blame you, Benvolio? When you dream of them, do they blame you for not saving them?”

Benvolio didn’t expect him to speak, he looked at the older man wondering what he should say, how he should answer.

“No… No they – - _He swallowed before continuing. -_ They says it wasn’t my fault and I shouldn’t blame myself actually.”

“How lucky…” When Benvolio turned the Cat was sitting on the mattress, a pendant held tightly in his hand, a golden cross with a red stone, like a drop of blood. “He’s not that wrong though. I failed him. I let him die.”

“He brought that on himself.” The young Montague said before clasping his hands on the mouth realizing what he had said. “I – I mean…” But the Cat ignored him.

“I was there. I could – I should have stepped in between. It was my duty, my only duty. And I failed. He has every right to torment me and blame me.”

Benvolio moved silently, he put a hand on his shoulder hoping it would comfort him enough.

“I didn’t know Tybalt, not like you did, not the _real_ Tybalt, but one thing I know for sure. You’re his brother, no matter what happened he would _never_ blame you.”

Sometimes Benvolio had to remind himself he wasn’t the only one who had lost his family because of that feud. Sometimes he had to remind himself he wasn’t the only one mourning someone. Sometimes he had to remind himself that someone else, another man, felt the same guilt he did deep in his heart, someone else was waking up in the middle of the night or would lay awake, fearing a nightmare he knew was waiting for him in the sleep, someone else could grab his hand and held him when he felt like falling, and falling, and falling.

As long as both their arms were stretched out to the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I already introduce the Cat here? I don't remember...  
So, the character is a mix of different productions, ever since writing of him the first time I didn't foound a suitable name so I'll just keep calling him Cat. He'll be in several fics, both on this collection and outside.  
I hope you'll like him as much as I do.
> 
> ~Phanie~


	6. 06 ~ Impaled Chest [Tycutio]

“It’s not like she would have married who you chose for her.” Words slipped from his mouth way before Tybalt could finish the thought. Months before he would have never believed himself able to have such a thought, let alone speak it aloud, but months passed, Juliet was happier than ever, and in all honesty the two Montague boys weren’t _that_ much bad. But of course that specific thought must remain in his mind. Unlike the thing he had just spoken.

“Silence. She’s my daughter, and she will do what _I _say.”

“Very nice.” Tybalt muttered to himself, sarcasm dripping from his lips like poison, not even trying to speak low. “Stuck in a marriage with a man twice her age because daddy likes him. Oh, I’m sure she will _love you_.”

“Watch your mouth.” In the span of a couple of seconds Lord Capulet turned a deep red, veins popping on his neck, hands balled in angry fists.

“Nothing against Lord Paris, - _He continued, now unable to stop despite feeling the danger filling the room. _\- he’s great, charming. Has only qualities, really, my dear _cousin_.” Again, some words never meant to be spoken slipped out of habit. And Paris wasn’t even his cousin, _yet._ “But he’s too old. Romeo, on the other hand is just a couple of years older than Juliet, loves her, and she loves him. I’m afraid, uncle, I fail to see the problem.”

The problem was, and Tybalt knew it well since he had pointed it out not more than six months before, that Romeo was a Montague. A kind boy, gentle, considerate, and apparently truly in love with her, but still a Montague. That was the problem. And the fact that Lord Capulet already had his hand on the hilt of the short sword at his side, rage barely contained.

“Defending a Montague, now? Is that what I taught you?” Tybalt swallowed and took, instinctively, a step back.

“You taught me to fight for my family. That’s what I’m doing.” The slap was nothing, in truth it just covered the sharp pain Tybalt felt in his chest.

“You disgrace this family even more than my daughter.”

It was strange. A slap shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t hurt his chest. It shouldn’t make it painful to breathe. It shouldn’t –

“Tybalt?” He turned. Juliet screamed, eyes wide in terror, tears already falling on her cheeks. He opened the mouth but instead of words it was blood that came out, warm, thick, bright red. He fell. His knees buckled and he collapsed on the floor. The sword he remembered seeing at his uncle hip barely minutes ago was now in his chest. _Completely_. The hilt was almost pressed against the skin, his chest was on fire, his back was on fire, he wasn’t sure whether he was going to throw up or faint. Perhaps both. Yes, maybe he would do both. Both sounded really good.

He would have hit the floor much harder if he wasn’t already there, his vision swam and everything turned darker, then the world tilted and his head hit the ground. He saw a red dress floating in the air farther from him then nothing.

\- _There was a stronger pain that almost brought him back to consciousness, someone moved him, dragged him, dumped him on a bed. Rolled him on the side, __h__ands pressed on both his back and chest, blood __soaking the blankets. Tybalt felt cold, an unspeakable cold despite the fire. It made no sense. And it hurt. Everything hurt. -_

Never before Juliet ran that fast in her life, not even when as a child she tried to keep up with her cousins. But it was a game at the time, they roared and chased her around the gardens. Now it wasn’t a game anymore, she was chased by no one but the memory of what she saw. So she ran.

She knew where to find Romeo, she was almost sure at least, and if she found Romeo then she would find Mercutio too.

\- _Finding them was one thing, but then? What was she supposed to say? That her cousin had been stabbed because he called romeo family?_ -

But she ran, and almost tripped over a disconnected brick. She lit up when she found her husband not far from her, along with Benvolio and Mercutio. When she approached them, never stopping her run until she crashed in the boy’s safe arms, they already knew something happened. Just not what, _yet. _What they knew, or felt, was that it was something big, and important, maybe even scary, why else the young Capulet would find herself running through the streets alone?

“Juliet… Juliet, my dear…” Romeo’s voice was sweet and calm, his arms seemed to shield her from the world. _“Oh, if only he could shield her from the memories too.”_ She thought in despair.

“I – - _She stopped, tears still streaming down her face, she just couldn’t help herself, she just couldn’t stop. __-_ You need to come with me…” She looked up at Mercutio, a plea in her eyes not to ask anything more, she didn’t have the heart to explain him, she couldn’t. “If we run, maybe…” Something broke in her voice, something forbid her to finish the sentence. _If._ Was it really needed, an if? Yes, perhaps the _if_ was fine, the _maybe_, on the other hand…

“Tybalt?” If there was something that Juliet loved of Mercutio was that the first thought in dire situation was for Tybalt, for his safety, for his presence. _Or his absence._ Not at first, no. She knew him as Romeo’s friend and nothing more, as someone who challenged her cousin, but with time she saw the differences, she learned to accept him, even to like him. To consider him almost family, just like Tybalt did with Romeo.

“It’s – it’s complicated. We need to go, we –” She wanted to cry, she wanted to stay in Romeo’s arms, the mere idea of returning home, walking through the corridors, maybe even seeing the blood still on the floor… but she couldn’t stay, she couldn’t do that to Mercutio, she couldn’t let him go on his own.

On the way to the Capulet’s Palace he didn’t say a word, didn't ask any further explanation, Juliet could almost see his brain running faster than she did to find them, wrapping around ideas, suspicions theories he wanted to ask about but didn’t, and Juliet, oh, she was glad of their stretched silence.

“Oh God.” A voice greeted them before they could actually enter the house. “Oh, thank God you’re safe, Julie.” Passing a hand in the hair the Cat approached them both and hugged her tight. “Don’t scare me like that too, I’m old, I don’t think my heart can take it.” He tried, _and failed_, not to sound broken, but the way he held on her smaller body said everything he could say.

In another moment she would have laughed he wasn’t that much old and that his heart was for sure healthier than many other. But she couldn’t this time, because in the way he held her there was all the desperation of someone that would crumble if he let go.

“Where’s Tybalt?” Mercutio hated to be so blunt in that moment, but the more he had to wait and the more restless he felt.

“This way.” Mercutio was tempted to stop him after a couple of steps, they were going in the opposite direction of where he knew were the bedrooms. “It’s not a shortcut, if you’re wondering.” _“I didn’t.” _ He wanted to say, but for once he remained silent. “But it’s safer. Mostly for me. It could be a problem if I see my uncle again. I could…” He lowered the voice suddenly as he took a corner and slipped inside a room, quickly followed by Juliet and Mercutio. “I could break something more than a nose. And an arm. And five fingers under my boots. And – No. It doesn’t matter. Look…” He turned and stopped Mercutio in front of a second door half hidden from a wardrobe. “What you’ll find won’t be good, or nice, or anything, really. I won’t blame you if you don’t want to –” Mercutio opened the door and stepped in the other room before the Cat could finish talking.

“Is it _that_ bad?” He heard Juliet ask but the answer never reached his ears, everything fell silent as he saw the body on the bed.

He thought he had seen people hurt badly before but that was a totally new level and Mercutio wasn’t sure if it was because of the wound or because it was Tybalt.

He walked closer to the bed careful not to make any noise that would attract someone or wake the boy and he sat on the mattress, close enough to make him feel his presence, or at least he hoped so.

“My love… My Tybalt… What have you done? What have they done to you?” His fingers brushed carefully his face only getting a soft moan back. “It’s okay, don’t worry. It’s not that bad, you know? - _He whispered trying to keep his voice as steady as he could. _\- It’s a scratch, an annoying one, but nothing mo –”

“Liar.” He didn’t expect Tybalt to answer him, he thought he was still unconscious, - _He thought he would die without waking up._ \- he thought he wouldn’t even hear him. “Blade went through, I’m dying.” The calmness in his voice broke Mercutio’s heart more than he thought it would, he wanted to deny it, he wanted to convince Tybalt of the contrary, convince him to fight or, at least, just convince him, but he couldn’t. He saw the wound, well, he saw the bandages, and the blood, and the paleness of his face, how cold he was, and how weak. How his breathing was slow and painful, and he saw more blood coming from his mouth as he spoke.

Mercutio really wanted to tell him he would be fine but in the end he couldn’t really lie to him, not in the _end_.

“Tell him I’m sorry. - _He heard him beg. _\- Tell him I tried…”

_Who? _Who should he tel – _Oh!_

“Romeo?” Tybalt nodded blinking tiredly, trying his best to remain awake.

“Uncle didn’t listen, but I tried. I did.” He whispered again, - _More blood. More and more blood, Mercutio felt the urge to scream. _\- Mercutio nodded.

Slowly, as gently as he could he took him in his arms, he didn’t let go, not even when Tybalt whimpered and hissed in pain, careful of where he would put his hands on the chest and back, he leaned over and kissed him.

“I will. - _He assured at last. _\- and I’ll make sure they will be fine and safe. Everyone. Romeo, Juliet, your brother. I’ll keep them safe for you.”

Tybalt smiled. It lasted a couple of seconds, then it turned in a painful coughing fit that left him breathless. He lift a hand and caressed Mercutio’s cheek, and then – Then he was gone, like smoke in the wind. He was still there, of course, his body, held tightly in trembling arms, with hands brushing his face and hair, praying to him to wake up, begging him to stay a little longer. Repeating, like a mantra, how he loved him, and how he should have said it more before.

The first thing both Romeo and Benvolio noticed when Mercutio joined them was the blood on his clothes, on his hands, on his face. Then they saw the knife still in his hand, dripping blood as he walked, eyes blank staring forward, seeing the street above but nothing else, or not paying attention, they weren’t sure. He stopped in front of them and blinked, like he had to clear his vision and finally see them.

For a moment he almost lifted the dagger to Romeo’s throat, a little voice in his mind saying he was to blame too for what happened, saying that if he didn’t marry Juliet then Tybalt wouldn’t have defended him and died. But he promised. _He promised_, to a dying man, and it was not the kind of promise one go around and break after not even one hour. But he could blame him, _yes_, he could make him feel one little stab, even if just in his soul. Maybe if Romeo felt it too it would he easier for him to carry it.

“He – - _He froze, his hand gripped the hilt of the dagger harder but he didn’t raise it. _\- He would have called you cousin. He would have defended you, and Juliet, from Lord Capulet. He did defended you and he took a sword in his chest. For you.” Tears fell before he could stop them, a sob broke from his throat. “I finished what he started, I defended your _God forsaken_ marriage. And I finished what the cat started too. I don’t care of what will happen now, I promised you would be safe and now you will be.”

\- _The knife found Lord Capulet’s heart before he could even register Mercutio was there. But the heart wasn’t enough for him. He kept stabbing him until the Cat came and dragged him away ordering him to run. _-

The dagger slipped from his fingers and Mercutio smiled, then laughed hysterically through tears, news of Lord Capulet’s death soon arrived to everyone’s ears in Verona, - _Somehow, though, words of how he killed his own nephew remained to few chosen ones. _\- Mercutio found himself being dragged back to the Palace to his uncle, he didn’t resist when the two guards he had known since forever came and took him away, he simply looked back at Benvolio and a shocked Romeo, his words still echoed in the young Montague’s heir.

Some days later the secret Marriage got exposed, by order of the Prince, Mercutio got exiled, a small price for the crime he committed, Lady Capulet said, and a funeral held for her departed husband.

\- _A second funeral, more private and almost as secret as the wedding, was held for Tybalt, a few hours before Mercutio left the city. Just a few close people, mostly family, in the very end, whether by blood or found. _-

“I knew I would find you here, little prince.” The Cat said walking in the Crypt and looking at the young man laying on the tomb, his hand holding Tybalt’s. He walked behind them and put a kiss on his forehead covering their hands with his to strengthen the hold.

“May you be together, at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit it, this is one of my favorite chapters. I love everything about it.  
There is, actually, a little scene I cut at the end. The Cat was supposed to comfort Mercutio as he holds Tybalt, keep an arm around him, maybe covering his eyes. It was absolutely perfect and something an older brother would do, but it hit a bit to close, because I did that for my sister at our grandfather's funeral a month or so before writing this fic. (That's why it was perfect and I knew it would be realistic) It still works without it, so that's fine.  
The forehead kiss in the end is inspired by the Toho Production where Benvolio kisses Romeo's forehead in the crypt. I just loved it so, so much!
> 
> I hope you liked it. leave a comment, as always, if you want and... See you in the next angsty chapter.
> 
> ~Phanie~


	7. 07 ~ Poison [Tyris]

_ Poison _ . Strange as it may sound Tybalt knew exactly where to find it, who to pay for it and for silence. And he had every reason to do so. That would set him free at last, a freedom he wished for, a freedom denied.

There was only one problem. Something small, something not so important – no. It was huge, and precious, and everything worth living for.

_ Paris. _ Paris Escalus. Illegitimate son of the Prince, Count of Mantua, a beloved count, at least in his city, at least that’s what everyone always said. -  _ And by everyone he meant Mercutio and Valentine. Because no one else but them knew the truth.  _ \- 

Paris was worth everything he told himself as he sat on the bed, the small, dark bottle clutched in his hands. He was  _ his everything _ . 

The real problem was Lord Capulet. Blind Lord Capulet, angry Lord Capulet. So filled of his hate to fail to see the ruins around the city. And around his family.  _ He failed to see love _ . 

“Fight hard. - _His mother told him once, when he was nothing more than a child and his father had just been killed in a fight. She told him, she advised her only child, no older than seven, to fight. _\- Love harder.” She was smiling as she spoke to him for the last time, he would live at the Capulet Palace, and she was no Capulet, no matter how much she loved her husband. “Our city lies on a bed of ruins but it’s not completely lost.” Tybalt never doubted she believed that, how sad would she be to find her beliefs so forgotten and forbidden. 

He didn’t believe in love at first, it was childish, something girls should worry about, -  _ Or so his uncle told him.  _ \- then he met Paris. He crashed into him while trying to escape one of the parties and instead of getting angry Paris smiled at him and offered him another escape, through a back door. Falling in love at fourteen was something Tybalt never thought possible, he wasn’t young for that, of course not, he had plenty of experience. -  _ He hated all those so called experiences. He didn’t hate women, no reason for that, but the idea of touching them made him feel strange. And not the good kind of strange. Even worse the idea of someone touching him.  _ \-  Falling in love with the Prince’s son was not in his plans, never. He was three years older, he was royalty, kind, considerate, and his touch was gentle and strangely not so unwelcome. But he was a man, and Paris must have thought the same. And yet in love he fell, and he fell hard. -  _ And loved even harder.  _ \- 

The problem, in the end, was Lord Capulet, as always. In his blindness he saw them. In his hate he condemned them.  _ In his rage he hit him after Paris left the Palace. _ The ring on his finger broke the skin on his cheek but the pain was easily ignored, he had learned fast during the first months at the Palace to never show any weakness.

“My father will help us. - _Paris had said before leaving the Capulet Palace and Tybalt wanted to believe him. _\- Meet me in one hour at the square by the fountain.” Someone else would have stopped him, asked him to be more specific; Verona had many squares, and many squares had fountains, whether big or small, they both knew which one though.

Tybalt tried to believe him, and yet the poison in his hand was still so tempting. He hid the bottle in a pocket and slid out of the window and into the streets. Maybe he wouldn’t need it, maybe he would, time would tell soon enough.

Paris was already there when he arrived. He was pacing nervously, hands balled in fists and a dark look on his face, he almost lit up when he saw Tybalt coming. He never doubted him not coming as decided.

“Father, he –” Tybalt shook his head, there was no need to explain. “I’m sor –” Nor to apologize, the young Capulet stopped him again putting a hand on his. The bottle weighted in his pocket. He couldn’t ask him that. And at the same time, now that he was there in front of him, he couldn’t do it to him. He just loved him too much, more than words could explain, more than a heart could take, so much it almost hurt. - _What actually hurt was their respective families._ \- 

“Mercutio offered to talk to father…” Paris said after some minutes.

“Mercutio? Vouching for us? For me?” It was strange to even think of it. He was sure Mercutio hated him, and yet he was trying to help him? _Them_?

“I was surprised as you are. But he cares, my good cousin, they both care. If he fails Valentine will try. Stubborn boys, they are…”

“Stupid boys. - _He wanted to thank Mercutio, whether he would succeed or not. He wanted to thank him for trying. _\- They’ll get themselves in trouble with the Prince, and what for?”

“Family…”

Tybalt sat down next to him on the fountain.

“I wish I never met you.” He whispered earning a gasp in response, loud and shocked. “I drag everyone I care about down with me… You would have been better away from –”

“I wouldn’t choose any other way, any other time, or any other person. And you know it well enough, I believe. I always made it clear.” He did. He made it crystal clear every time, and Tybalt believed him, how could he not? “If you’re asking me to leave you because this city fucked up our families then I will not.”

“What if I said I’m the one leaving you?” He closed the coat around his body as if to hide himself, like a child in a blanket. - _As if he could actually leave him. _-

“Are you?” There was some uncertainty in Paris’ voice, he looked over at him with a strange fear settling in his stomach.

“No.” Tybalt suddenly turned, _hell_, he couldn’t even lie to him. Not even to save his life. “You know I wouldn’t. You know I can’t. It was only a _what if_. A possibility. A… something. I’m not. I won’t. I love you.” It was barely a whisper, taken by the wind, but Paris heard him anyway.

“I know… We’ll find a way, something. I don’t know what _yet_, but we will figure it out, somehow.”

G oing back to the Escalus Palace was the only obvious thing they could do,  Tybalt refused to go back to his uncle’s place and Paris refused to leave him alone. That was how they ended up in Paris’ room.

“What’s that?” Tybalt turned and his heart missed a beat when he saw the small bottle in Paris’ hands. He could lie, of course. Say it was some kind of medicine he bought for someone, or for himself. Say he didn’t know. He could lie, but Paris would find out.

“A plan I was too coward to take to the end.” He answered walking close and taking it from his hands. It was heavy now, it seemed so much heavier than before. “I wanted to, but I can’t do that to you, I can’t be this selfish just because my uncle said what he did.”

He wanted to be selfish, he tried. He unlocked the bottle as he was sitting on his bed, and brought it to his lips, he almost drank it. But Paris, oh, Paris loved him, and he loved him back, he couldn’t be that much selfish.

“Is it painful?” Paris grabbed his hand, dragged him gently on the bed and never, not even for a second, stopped looking at him.

“I… No, I don’t think so.” Tybalt cocked his head confused and Paris smiled, his free hand cupped his cheek and caressed him gently.

“Fast?”

“One hour or so… Paris I don’t understand. Why are you –” He froze. He wasn’t selfish to do it and leave Paris behind. He wouldn’t be selfish to ask him to do the same, drink half of the bottle. He didn’t need to be selfish, Paris was thinking exactly that, if he knew as he hoped he did.

“They want to destroy us, they keep us apart and forbid our love, our chance to be happy. We could make them pay.”

“Or we could run away and leave where no one know us…” Paris took the bottle from his hand and Tybalt tried to fight him. It was absurd, and it shouldn’t happen, he didn’t want to happen.

“They will find a way to find us, I know my family, I know my father.”

“You said Mercutio –”

“He will never convince him. Nor will Valentine. They may try but… Ah! No… I can’t ask you –”

For a moment Tybalt thought he was joking. He was the one who bought the poison, the one too coward to use it, was he really thinking he shouldn’t ask him? -  _ Maybe the truth was that they were both just scared. They didn’t want to die, not really.  _ \- 

“You’re not asking. Like I did not ask you.”

“There is no coming back if we do it.” He opened the bottle and smelled it. “It’s kind of sweet.” Tybalt smiled.

“There is no coming back…” He reminded him, Paris drowned half the bottle and passed it to him. For some reason all fears disappeared, Tybalt’s hands were still shaking as he took the bottle and brought it to his lips and drank what he had left.

He was scared, -  _ Of course he was. He was seventeen and just drank poison because their families were opposed to their love. How stupid it sounded like that.  _ \- and yet he wasn’t. Paris dragged him down gently, side by side on the gold blankets, the pillows soft under their heads. He took his hand and held it tight as sleepiness took them.

It wasn’t painful, in the end. Even in sleep Tybalt felt something indefinite happen. At some point he felt cold, deep shivers passing through his body, he felt his heart beat slower and slower, giving up to the poison. It wasn’t painful. A bit strange maybe but he would never have to explain it.

When morning came Mercutio knocked on the door and opened it without even waiting for an answer. He thought all night about a solution and running away was the only logical thing to do. Mantua loved Paris, they would protect him. For some reason Mercutio was sure Mantua would love Tybalt too, just because he was loved by Paris.

It took him some times to come to term with that, come to term with the fact that his enemy was the reason his older cousin was suddenly much more easy and friendly. Love truly changed people.

And love made them reckless too, sometimes. It made them selfish.

Love… There was no place for something pure as love in Verona.

“Paris…” He called. Then he noticed Tybalt sleeping at his side, their hands together, fingers intertwined as the night before. “… And Tybalt. Sorry to wake you two sleeping beaut –” He stopped mid word as realization settled in.

He couldn’t see his cousin’s face, he was giving his back to the door, but he could see Tybalt and it was enough. His face was pale, white, like marble, and his lips, just slightly parted, were blue. Everything was still, their faces in sleep, their chests. Everything was still like in death.

Mercutio held out a hand, not surprised to find it trembling at the movement, he brushed the fingers on Paris’ hair and tears fell down his cheeks.

He didn’t love Tybalt, but seeing him now, hand in hand with his cousin, hand in hand with the person Mercutio knew he loved more than anything, made him feel guilty. Guilty for not trying harder to convince his uncle, guilty for not thinking sooner of another possibility, guilty for not going to them that same night and talked about possibilities.  _ Guilty _ . 

Because now they were dead, both of them, and for what, exactly?

_Love… Love shouldn’t kill. _

But that was Verona. She laid on a bed of ruins  and maybe  she really was already lost. Maybe she was already  _ poisoned _ by her hate and rage and blood. And she had just claimed her first victims.

\- _First of many, Mercutio was sure of it._ -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not apologize. I should, because those two babies deserve much more happiness than what my angsty self will ever give them but it's okay. That was the prompt, and it was the one I never changed my mind on. I knew since the beginning it was going to be them, only that, at first, it was supposed to be Paris only, in the crypt, found by Romeo when he goes to Juliet, dead next to Tybalt's tomb. It would have been just as dramatic, but this version won in the end, and I'm glad it did.  
I hope you all liked it, as always.  
There are only 4 prompts left free in the [Bad Things Happens Bingo card](https://aki-draws-things.tumblr.com/post/187653324925/bthb-masterlist), if anyone want to ask for one of them feel free to drop the ask on my tumblr. All the ships are listed below.
> 
> Read you all soon  
~Phanie~

**Author's Note:**

> The card for the prompts is on my tumblr ( https://aki-draws-things.tumblr.com/post/187587089355/the-circled-are-asked-the-one-with-ship-names-are ), along with the ships I write on. Feel free to ask if anything inspires you.  
I hope you'll enjoy this little collection of angst as much as I enjoy writing it!
> 
> ~Phanie~


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